


On your own

by LeatherDearest



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Alpha Derek, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Hurt Derek, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Not Beta Read, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 04:06:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4165140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeatherDearest/pseuds/LeatherDearest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kicked out of his pack and starving to death, Omega Stiles does what he has to in order to survive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Mud

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest fic i've ever written. I also don't have a beta, so sorry? If anyone knows where to get someone to do it, I'd love any suggestions. I hope you enjoy this. Updates may or may not be super regular. I apologize for that as well. This is a hobby that I am really enjoying fitting into my boring real life, so it can go in fits and starts.

Stiles hated the stinking, sloppy red mud more than anything. It got everywhere. It slid down into his boots and caked on his knees. He tasted it in his mouth and felt the grit in his eyes. It sprayed across his back and dribbled down his neck. It flaked out of his hair and stained him from fingertip to elbow. He felt it ooze in through the worn weave of his clothing. He just knew it was in his underwear, because of course it was in his underwear. 

He had spent all day hunting and foraging, and trying not to think about how bleak everything seemed. The meager supplies he had brought with him were basically gone, even with his careful rationing. He spent the first two weeks putting distance between him and his old clan and didn't dare stop to hunt where he could still smell wolves marking. A lone omega shouldn't poach if they want to survive.

The fall needed to hold on just for a little longer. With just a few more weeks, he should be able to catch enough small game and collect enough root vegetables to get through most of the winter. If he could just have a few more weeks before the frost came and killed everything edible- he had a fighting chance. The sudden downpours and frigid wind over the last few days were not making Stiles particularly optimistic. He just had to shake it off. Keep focused on what was in front of him. 

Stiles rounded the rock formation and tripped past the evergreens. He slid into his new home and started stripping off his wet clothes. Half a week’s walk into seemingly unclaimed territory had yielded a perfect den. With some strategically placed mud bricks and pine-bough thatching, it was clean, dry and warm. It was tall enough to hang drying meat and had a perfect space with great ventilation for a fire. He was incredibly lucky. The den hadn’t been used by anything bigger than raccoon for decades. He couldn’t smell any wolves at all around here, and maybe if no one knew about this place, no one would try to take it from me. 

Stiles groaned. he was going to need to get some of the mud off his clothes if he had any hope of wearing them again soon. He sighed deep and pulled on yesterday's damp, stained undershirt. It was a little torn at the hem, mostly rust colored from the clay and very, very thin. At least it reached to mid-thigh and had long sleeves. Since he was a kid, he tried to be thankful for something whenever he was cold. It kept his mind off of it, and it felt good to remember things are better than they could be. He was always trying to be thankful these days, and it was flipping hard to do. 

Resigned, Stiles walked out into the chilly wind. Goosebumps crawled up his bare legs in waves. A stream of water ran a few feet from the den's entrance. He knelt and dunked his filthy clothes underwater, mashing them against the rocky floor bed until his fingers were completely numb. He was grateful for the easy access to the water. 

He wrung out each piece of clothing separately, and looked toward the sun- he wouldn't light a fire until dark, when the smoke would melt into the night sky. Until then he would just have to sit wrapped in his dirty undershirt and curl into his pile of grass bedding. He had to be careful. Stiles was safe as long as no one wanted what he had. He was on unclaimed land and taking food from unclaimed forest. He spent weeks preparing this den, but making it too nice wasn't a good bet. ‘Too nice’ and someone will eventually catch on and take what he couldn't defend. He’d start looking for a backup den just as soon as he had enough food, but food had to be the priority.

 

His skin was always softer. His genitals didn’t growing at the speed of his beta and alpha packmates. in his early teens, he started to feel the foalts. Stiles confessed his suspicion to his father quietly and ashamed. His dad tried to help him hide it, but there is only so much you can do to postpone presentation. They started boiling moon-break root tea late at night and cut his food portions as low as they could without being noticed. He did everything he could to avoid shifting. He was sixteen and it was spring when he started to feel the warning signs of coming presentation. 

It was pretty clear to everyone by September that Stiles was an omega. He couldn't stay with the pack. 

When it comes down to it, they were kind, really. They let him stay inside the walls of the village through his first heat, unmolested even. When he emerged from the cottage after the fifth day, wrung out and humiliated, his father was there to say good bye. They did to have to do that.

Omegas were a huge liability for any pack. They could only bond with an alpha, but they were coveted by betas just as much. Omega huts popped up outside of villages, where the betas and alphas could visit, exchanging food for a little ass. The “protection” offered was low, and often the Alpha of a village would demand freebies for their officers as payment. No one really cared when a raiding party popped in and took a few omegas back with them. The Northern Packs were all the same. Out of all the packs that traded with the Martin Pack, only the Whittemore Pack had more than one adult Omega allowed in the village, and the extra was the Alpha’s son. 

Omegas in the huts didn’t live long or happy lives. Hungry and virtually always pregnant, they lived their lives waiting for someone to come take their children or fuck them to death. Babies were rarely born, omega’s bodies ending the pregnancy often when it realizes there is no alpha to provide for the cub. No alpha wants to fuck an omega bred by someone else. Any living cubs didn’t last long, succumbing by violence in raids or starvation. Theft from official packs took any inexplicably healthy children. No one wants an omega, but strong alpha or beta cub could be an asset to a pack that was low on hunters. 

Stiles and his father were just refugees taken on out of pity after their alpha died. If Stiles's father had been any less of a hunter, the Martin Pack would have had no use for either of them. The shame of his presentation dug into his chest. Stiles was grateful for the years of safety the Martin Pack extended to his father and himself. He was embarrassed and ashamed trying to hide his designation, especially after they had graciously forgiven his father. Stiles could survive being exiled, but it would mean death for his father's weak heart. 

However, their kindness had limits. The Martin pack couldn’t expend the kind of resources an extra omega would necessitate. Unbonded omegas were dangerous, they had to be kept on the outside of any village. Everyone knew omegas drew the attention of all unbonded alphas for miles, attracting war and violence. Even a lone bonded omegas was troublesome. They were utterly unable to do anything productive past making more mouths to feed or drugging pack members into submission. They had to be locked away and constantly guarded. Unable to control themselves, they were an unending source of derision and strife within packs. Even the official pack omega for the Martins almost never left the Omega cottage, and on those rare occasions, only did with a fearsome beta guard and when she was already pregnant. Alpha Martin wouldn't risk Omega Matin being compromised. 

Stiles may have drawn the short straw, but he was tough. As long as they weren’t going to boot his dad, it didn’t matter. He’d survive for as long as he needed to. He just needed to get enough food to get through the winter undetected. If he could do that, spring would be here and he could make his way south- where he had heard there were witch doctors that knew how to make omegas in to betas.


	2. Enter Derek

This was very, very, very bad. “Worst-case-scenario” bad. This is exactly why they were always kicking omegas out. They could *not* control themselves. 

That was it. His hopes of a discrete, safe winter were just gone. Here was a giant, wounded Alpha, half-drowned in the soupy ground near the marsh. 

Stiles watched from his spot near a rock. He just needed to see the wolf healing and he'd leave right away. *Maybe* if the stranger was too preoccupied with the pain or the even just the healing, just maybe, he wouldn't bother trailing Stiles. Maybe if he could just see the wolf starting to get up, he could sneak away without the alpha ever knowing he was even there.

The stranger was fully shifted and breathing heavily. Stiles could feel the pain coming off him from thirty feet away. His stupid omega brain wasn't going to let this go. The pull was starting in his gut already. Omegas were nurturers. They were caregivers. It was a goddamned biological imperative. He *needed* to see the alpha get up before he could tear himself from the clearing. 

Stiles glared at the stranger, willing the alpha-healing to goddamned kick in already. Come on. Come on. 

The wolf perked up, scenting the air. 

God. Damn. It. 

The strange wolf caught Stiles scent and started to whine and struggle. He threw his large head around, instinct telling him to find the omega, call out and get the help he needs. Panting and whining when he catches a glimpse of the hidden boy, he weakly howls. 

Stiles stares back blankly. Fighting his own need to get to in there to heal and touch and comfort, he swallows against the hard ball in his throat. He was so weak. A heavy feeling was building in his chest, threatening crack open his heart. 

The wolf whines again, not understanding why the boy doesn't come. To Stiles horror, he tries to stand. 

Blood pours out of the wound across the wolf's belly. It gushed and seemed to come in waves each time the wolf shifts his weight. He falls back into the muck with a groan, only to try and get better footing for another attempt. The wet splat of the mud rings out with another fall. 

Stiles let out a strangled mess of a sound and flung out his arms in frustration. There is no way he was going to be able to get out of this now. 

"Stop! Stop!" Stiles yelled, running and and slid the last few feet to close the gap between them. He pulled the big head into his lap, out of the muck. He ignored the low growl and pressed hard against the gash. "Stay still- you need to let the skin knit back together, ok? Ok. Let me hold it for a second and I'll take some pain, ok? Just lay still, lay still." He brought his free hand up to card his hands through the black fur on the wolf’s neck. His fingers touched flesh and the Draw began. 

Everyone could perform a Draw, but omegas were masters of it. It burned through energy as bad as a beta or alpha, but omegas barely felt the pain they were taking in. Stiles hadn’t had to do it much, but he was a natural. He sucked up pain and pushed warm, calming pheromones out to the agitated wolf. 

Waiting for the pain to dissipate was tedious. He needed to get this guy on his feet before whoever did this came back. He split his attention evenly between scanning the treeline for danger and looking into the wolf’s eyes, willing him to stop hurting. 

Stiles pulled the pain in while he felt along the edges of the wound. There was something wrong. With every little prod, Stiles felt a release and smelled the tell-tail trace of wolvesbane. Pus mixed with the blood oozing against his hand. He let the tips of his fingers slid a little into the wound. The stench intensified. He could feel something in there, pushing back. Stiles felt the bile rise in his throat. 

The wolf rolled his head onto Stiles muddy lap, staring up with red alpha eyes. He looked better now, less cloudy in there. 

"Hey, man? Listen. I am so sorry, but I need to do something pretty gross. It's going to hurt a lot, I think. I need to do it though. Can you understand that?"

The wolf looked up at him and growled low. 

"I take as much of the pain as I can, but I have to get in there to get that thing out. It smells like poison. Can you smell that?" Stiles waited for the wolf to huff an acknowledgement. "Ok, man. I am going to try and get this done quick. You just better not kill me after this. I swear to gods I'll haunt your ass. I swear it."

Stiles dipped his fingers deep into the gash and felt them brush bone, guts and then... Finally... The thin, sharp edge of a weapon. His fingers scrabbled at it, trying to get purchase. 

His concentration slipped as he worked at it, the pain flooding back into the werewolf on his lap. Loud, gasping breathes escaped his muzzle and suddenly he was fighting.

Stiles dug his left hand into the wolves scruff and pressed, forcing submission for a few precious seconds so he could grip the knife and indelicately yank it out. 

With the poison tool, a rush of sickness poured from the wound, followed by a spray of blood. The mess mixed and frothed across Stiles knees. The smell crawled into his mouth and flooded into his lungs. He gagged twice. His head threw back and gulped in long pulls of air. He just needed a second. 

Just one more second. 

And then he maned-the-fuck-up and looked down into the alphas enraged face. He released the hold on his neck and thrust his fingers through the hair to find skin. The wolf sagged into the draw, mewling as the pain seeped out. 

"Ok, it's out. It's out. I'm so sorry. Just hold on a second. I'm going to try to get your skin to stay together. Just a little bit longer, ok?" 

He stared into red eyes with as much concern as he could throw into his eyebrows. He nervously worried his lips as he kept eye contact. The wolf breathed deeply out closed his eyes and allowed his head to roll back. Finally, finally (thank gods, thank gods) the wolf passed out. 

Stiles groaned and gradually slowed the Draw, trying to keep the strange wolf from waking. He took a moment to examine the wound. It was already looking better, but it wasn't doing the super healing alphas were known for. Little blobs of poison puss weeped from the pressed skin. He gingerly relaxed the pressure under his hand, seeing if the flesh would part once again.

Relief flooded him as the skin puckered and stayed. 

Gently as he could, he moved the wolf off his lap and got up. He needed to figure out how he was going to make sure this guy both survived and let him live to see another year. 

He reached out and picked up the poison blade. Using his filthy shirt, he wiped the stinking organic goop from the side of the blade. He shouldn't have bothered. It was exactly what he expected. Goddamnit. 

Argent magic.


	3. Back to the Den

By the time Stiles had gotten the wolf back to his den, it was midmorning.

Stiles carried the stranger like a sack of potatoes. Stiles felt weaker than ever, but the adrenaline and his instincts won out. He hoisted the giant wolf across his shoulders and stumbled along, with his hands wrapped around ankles to keep up the necessary flesh-to-flesh contact. The wolf was dead weight, and only shifting when Stiles had to stop the Draw to steady himself. The wound had was still delicate, and tore every few meters in the beginning, dripping blood down his spine. Stiles had finally given up, stripping off his shirts until he got to the poor, abused undershirt.

He was going to miss that shirt, but he couldn't use any of the rough hewn overclothes for a bandage. They were too dirty, too scratchy.

Wrapping the wound made all the difference. With the wound pushed together, their pace increased significantly across the last stretches of forest to Stiles’s little shelter.

The wolf swam in and out of consciousness throughout the trip, clearly not enjoying being carried. Stiles huffed as they got to the little clearing before the entrance. "I'm not really into this either. You might want to cut back on the boar or something, because really."

Time to get to work. He knelt down, and lay the wolf on the dead grass near the bank of the stream.

"Sorry, guy. But I promise to never pick you up again as long as you promise to always be able to walk. "Now. We need to get you cleaned up. How do you want to do this?"

The wolf shifted his eyes to Stiles. Then growled deep.

"That is actually not an acceptable answer. We need to get as much of the poison off of you that we can. I know you're tired. It's going to be a little unpleasant, but it has to happen."

Stiles stood up with his hands on his hips, looking down. He thought for a moment, letting his mouth run.

"We Don't really have anything to dry you off with, so I don't want to just dip you in the water. BUT you are really really dirty all over, and there is that poison puss just everywhere in your fur. I don't think a wash cloth is going to do the job. Honestly, I'm not really looking forward to getting in there with you... But I think we’re just going to have to do it. I just don't feel like freezing for the rest of the day."

Stiles looked up into the sky. It was cloudy. It didn't really matter. A fire out here would be a beacon to whoever was wandering. And there was no telling if the Argents were still around. Or this guy’s pack. Enemies or allies, they could be equally dangerous to an omega with no bonds or family to speak of. He debated freezing to death verses being torn apart by angree betas. At least the betas would be quick. 

The wind kicked up. Damnit. New plan. 

"Ok, Sourwolf. I need to know how risky it's going to be to light a fire to keep us warm after this bath."

The wolf growled again, staring hard into Stiles eyes. Stiles didn't back down. "The bath is happening. I just need you to use your super wolf senses and your actual knowledge of what's going on out there to give me an idea if the risk of being discovered is better or worse than our current risk of freezing to death wet."

Staring contest. Go.

Long minutes passed. "I swear to gods, no answer means bath with no fire"

The wolf huffed hard. He glared and then closed his eyes, deeply scenting the air. When he opened them again they were hazel. He nodded his giant wolf head.

"So, yes cozy fire?" Nod again.

"Ok. I'll get it started" things weren't looking so bad all of a sudden! Yeah, he was going to have to get really wet and it was going to have to cold and naked... 

Oh right. Naked. In front of this new and angery alpha. awesome. 

\----

The bath was less traumatic than he thought it was going to be, but much much colder. Stiles set the big wolf up by the fire inside the den while he gathered some food to serve them. He hated digging into his rations, and it was a joke to try to feed an injured alpha on what a skinny omega was barely surviving off of. And he was going to have to eat, too. With the Draw, he was in some serious need of a recharge. 

He had his rough over-shirt tied around his waist to provide him a little dignity, but really there wasn’t much point anyway. He sighed. It didn’t matter. Not only had the wolf seen the goods- the good weren’t all that much to write home about. 

He backed up out of his larder area in the den and almost tripped over a newly human-shaped wolf. 

“Oh! Good! You’re better!” He was so relieved he could have cried. The very last thing he could handle was losing his patient now that his own wolf had decided that they had to care for him. Omega instincts were intense. “I have some food for us.”

The wolf sat up slowly, pressing his hand into the pink scar on his side. “Thanks.”

“Can I ask what happened?” Stiles moved into a crouch, trying to hide his own nudity while basically ogling the Alpha. He was in fact a terrible person. “The blade was Argent magic.” He held a portion out. Alphas had to eat first, even in these situations. 

“You can ask whatever you want. Where are my things?” 

“What? What things?” 

The wolf’s eyes bled red. “All of my things. You didn’t them in the middle of a swamp.”

“I did kinda have my hands full what with you bleeding to death- I sort of didn’t even notice any stuff.” This guy can’t be serious. He just took like, five straight hours of pain for him. “And you need to eat so I can eat. Please eat.”

He shoved a hand full of jerky in his mouth. “There. Now you need to go get my stuff.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Stiles murmured and picked at some of the roots and berries to pop into his mouth. He kept his eyes downcast. It was one thing to sass an alpha who was half conscious and loose from omega Draw. This was a recovered, angry alpha. “You’ll be on your feet in a day. You can get them”

Blunt fingers wrapped around Stiles’s chin and turned his whole face. Eye contact. ok. “Omega. You’re going to go now. Because I’m Derek Hale, Alpha of the land you’re poaching from. You will do exactly what I tell you to do.”

\----------------

The pack was exactly where Derek had said. 

Hooked on a branch and dangling like fruit, the fine leather travel pack was about fifteen feet from the ground. It was in the center of a thick bough. Alpha Hale had tied it there, intending on scouting the area for the retreating Argent raiding party in his wolf form. It was really. Really high. 

No turning back now. Stiles squared his shoulders. He shimmied up the tree, grateful that the rain had starved off long enough to at least partially dry the bark. His palms stung from the rough surface. As he neared the correct branch, he hooked his leg around the trunk, digging his worn boot heels in to steady himself. The omega leaned back, suddenly very grateful for the natural flexibility and lankiness of his gender. 

He reached for the pack, and saw that it was attached to the tree with not loop, but a basic, loose knot. He could work with that. His fingers brushed the ends of the knot. He needed to go further. A few more centimeters and he could get an end between his fingers. He caught the end of the leather ties and pulled, the knot coming loose immediately. 

Stiles's mouth dropped open and everything slowed. "No nononono no no!" He was going to drop the bag and Derek was going to take the damage out of his hide. Stiles flailed, suddenly reaching with both hands to try and catch the bag. He was thrown completely off balance, loosing the grip he had on the tree.

Stiles hit the hard ground with a thud, knocking the wind out of him. He lay there a moment, pressing his palm to his tender ribs. He drew his knees up stared up through the naked branches of the tree to the grey sky. 

Everything became intensely quiet. He could fall asleep here. He listened as wind moved wood and stirred up the dead leaves. He could hear small, wild things scurrying in underbrush meters away. He could hear the blood in his veins. He could hear himself struggle to drag in breath. 

He lay there. Thinking about how he could have missed the territory markings. He wouldn’t have stayed if he had smelled the borders. Tomorrow was going to be hard. He hoped the alpha would let him eat from his stores of poached goods. He had already been so tired and hungry from the weeks of rationing and now from the Draw, this extra exertion might just tip him over. 

The bleakness of his situation settled on him like a weight. He could fall asleep right here. He could close his eyes and just fade. 

...But the Alpha had ordered him to bring back the supplies. The bag. Stiles sat up with a start, his side smarting. He quickly turned his head around until it came to the pack. It had spilled open, the fasteners having come undone, but otherwise it seemed fine. 

Things had fallen everywhere, expelled from the bag when it hit the ground. He should just shove it all back into the huge pack. Alphas didn't like anyone, especially not stranger omegas, touching their things. But... He could smell something still inside the bag. His curiosity sparked inside him and he impulsively dug a hand inside. 

Thank the gods, there was food. Lots of it. And a thick bed roll. Stiles could feel that little thread of hope thickening in his chest. Maybe the Alpha wouldn't want his things. Maybe he would look at the meager supply of rabbit jerky and roots and be so unimpressed that he won't even bother. 

Maybe Derek will even let him have his bed of moss and grass back since the bedroll will be so much more comfortable. The grass was sweet smelling, but maybe he would feel magnanimous. After all, Stiles had helped him earlier. Maybe the he wouldn’t chase him away after all this. This could work. This could absolutely work.

The quality of each item pulled from the bag told Stiles of the power and wealth of the stranger's own wolf pack. Good, spicy smelling dried venison. Two sets of thick, well worn gloves with beautifully stitched embroidery. A flint case made from cast metal. Clothes that were packed with lavender to keep them fresh smelling while Derek wore only his wolf form. Stiles sighed over all the pretty things. He stuffed everything back in. Hopefully the Alpha wouldn't be too angry that he had gone through it. 

Stiles closed the fasteners and shrugged the pack up onto his own frail shoulders. The cold was settling into the valley as the sun set. He had better hurry. 

He tucked his hands between his back and the pack to warm them. As he made his way back through the woods, his mind wandered to the gloves. He couldn't risk it. Omega smell was pervasive and could be highly irritating. He didn't want to contaminate Derek's things any further without direct permission.

Hopefully, Derek would be mostly healed by tomorrow morning, and be thankful enough that he’ll just leave. That’s not impossible. He might just go. Stiles clung to that thought while he hustled all the way back.


	4. Well, obviously.

Derek lay on his front in the bed of grass, sleeping naked and splayed in the heat from the dying fire. The light flitted over the strong lines of his back and lit up tendrils of his drying inky hair. His head was turned toward the door, eyes shut and mouth relaxed.

Stiles took a moment to drink his fill of the sight. He was really very beautiful when he slept.

"You found it." Not so asleep, after all. His eyes remained closed.

"Yeah." Stiles dropped the bag a couple feet from the prone form and backed to the opposite edge of the den. "Nothing got to it, but I slipped when I reached it. I had to put things back in. It's all going to smell like me a little. I'm sorry."

Derek huffed and opened his eyes. He groaned as he sat up. Stretching for a moment, he then reached out for the pack on the floor. This guy was way too comfortable with his body. Stiles's face burned as he caught a glimpse of what the alpha had between his legs.

Embarrassed, Stiles rushed to turn around. He could eat! The Alpha had his own, much better food. So he could eat his own! His stomach had been empty all day, having to cut short his meal earlier. That would keep him busy until the alpha had put some clothes on! He sidestepped, keeping his back to the strange wolf as he headed to the back of the den where he kept his food stores. The tiny birds could be roasted in the embers and he...

All the food was gone. Every bit of it. Even the small birds he had taken that day. The Alpha had eaten every bit of his winter supplies. That was three months worth of food. 

That was it. He wouldn't have time to get more, not to make up what was lost. Even if he gave up on keeping the heat away, it was too late. He was too frail to properly shift to hunt now, not after months of calorie restriction. Now here he was, with the first Alpha he's seen in months laying in his bed, probably about to kickstart his heat anyway... And there wasn't enough food to survive it. He was going to burn out. Silly Omega trying to beat nature. His kind weren't good alone. He knew that and did this anyway. Silly Omega, should have just wandered over and offered himself to the first pack that would accept a gutter whore.

"Stiles?" Derek called out.

Stiles couldn't breathe. This was how it ended, dirty and damp and cold. He couldn't breathe. His vision narrowed and he stared at his empty food racks, and the small pile of refuse on the end of one. Thoughtfully kept off the floor to avoid rodents. He couldn't breathe and his chest was on fire.

From very far away "Stiles? What's happening?"

Stiles felt large hands on his shoulders, turning him. Derek was talking to him, but he couldn't hear anything past his raging heart and the rushing in his ears.

"Omega, CALM DOWN AND BREATHE."

Stiles's whole body relaxed in an instant. Air swooping into his lungs and head lolling, his eyes focused on Derek. The Alpha was holding him up. His knees hurt, he must have fallen? He knew he was in trouble now. The command meant he had really upset Derek. Alphas hate it when Omegas force them to use the voice. If the command hadn't been so clear, stiles would be terrified.

Derek looked angry. His brows were stitched together and his mouth so serious. Stiles almost giggled. He had been worried about starvation. Welp! Solved that problem!

"Stiles, I need you to tell me what happened. Why are you upset?"

Stiles's head rolled a little, enjoying the natural intoxication from being under the Voice. His instincts pushed at his insides to answer, to please the Alpha.

"I... I'm hungry. The winter is here and I won't have any food for it. I can smell snow." He didn't want to mention the thievery that had got him into this mess. He lowered his eyes in submission.

"Your wolf can feed you. There is plenty of game."

"I can't shift.”

"What? Why?" 

Stiles dropped his chin. He was surprised that his frail frame didn't give him away. Maybe Derek knew and just wanted to hear him say it. "It's uh, been a hard fall. I had to ration and the uh, the Draw was... I'm just too weak. I'm sorry for bothering you." 

Derek growled low with irritation, rolling his eyes. Holding the omega by the arms, he dragged Stiles back toward the front of the cave. 

Stiles, limp and easy from the earlier command, let his bare feet kiss the stone floor. He slowly blinked, enjoying the heat of big alpha hands above his elbows. He was laid down on his back right onto his bed of grasses. It smelled so much like Derek now, warm and safe and nice. Stiles laughed at his own instincts. His body was telling him to trust the Alpha that had just doomed him to a burn-out. He stared at the stone ceiling.

Derek leaned over him. "When did you eat last?" 

“With you. The berries.”

“I mean something substantial. Some meat. When?” 

"Yesterday I ate a bird."

"What you had here in the back, is that all you had?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"It's all I could get- hunting as a human."

"Why the hell would you hunt like *that*?" Derek squished his face up, eyes raking up and down the thin frame below. 

Stiles's eyes grew hot. His guts knotted up at the thought of the Alpha finding him so lacking. His body was thin, sure, but he wasn't bad when things were ok. He was still pretty strong. "Shifting brings on the heats."

Derek stuttered "wha- Well, that doesn't matter anymore. From now on. You're going to eat and you're going to shift to hunt." 

Stiles forced a smile. "There isn't any more food, Alpha. It's ok, though. I'll stay calm." He let his eyes close and tried to roll to hide his face. 

Derek sighed loud and long. "Omega. Sit up." Derek got down, kneeling behind Stiles’s shoulders. He pulled on Stiles's arms and yanked him upright before reaching into his bag. 

Stiles was still loose from the command and slowly fell to the side. Derek gave up after the fourth time trying to right him. He pulled the boy to sit leaned with his back against the alpha's chest. Derek leaned over and pulled the great leather bag close to them.

To Stiles's horror, he started hand- feeding the omega. Derek's thick fingers held a chunk of venison jerky to Stiles's lips. Stiles had no idea what to do but open and let Derek slip the food on.

This was all very confusing and dangerous. Hand-feeding dug deep into his instincts and touched his core wolf. Like this morning's ministrations, it spoke of ancient traditions between dynamic presets. It could severely mess with the biology of both of them. 

Omegas cared and nurtured. Alphas provided. And here they were- skinny Omega dressed in rags, sitting between the thighs of a naked, powerful Alpha while he slowly pulls bits of meat apart. And uses his fingers. To put things in his mouth. Everything is terrible.

But Stiles felt like he was melting more with each bite. Surrounded by the scent of Alpha, with his belly slowly filling, he could lie here forever. The food was so, so good. He could feel the omega float for the first time in months, stronger than he had ever experienced. He used to push out a little, shallowly, late at night while his dad sat cleaning their take from the hunt, whistling quietly and murmuring praise. He'd lie on his cot and let the warmth, safety, and security rock him into the serenity of an omega float. This was stronger and deeper than any of those. He wasn't even sure he could resist if he wanted to, and he really didn't want to. Maybe his alpha didn't find him so lacking after all? He let him float. And that was nice. 

They stayed like that for a long time. Stiles floated. He swam in a sea of warm acceptance and physical comfort. He had almost forgot what it felt like. 

 

\-----

 

Stiles came back hours later, wrapped in the bedroll and still full of food. Stiles was still relaxed and comfortable from Derek’s command. The last of the dim evening light was peeking in through the cave entrance. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. Derek was somewhere outside of the cave. He could hear him talking to someone in low tones. There was someone out there. 

Derek stepped back into the cave, fully clothed and carrying another travel pack. He crouched down to where Stiles sat. “Back with me now? Good omega.” 

“Who was outside? I can smell someone else.” Anxiety hitched his voice. 

“Just a beta. One of mine. Don’t worry about it.” He opened the bag. “He brought bread and a water skin for you.” 

Stiles was confused. Food? Bread? This wasn’t how the alphas he knew acted. Suddenly he was very concerned that he had missed something. Maybe Derek didn’t know he was unbonded. Some clans would ransome their members- even their omegas. Derek might be thinking he was an investment. “Alpha… I’m not… ah... I’m not claimed.”

Derek quirked an eyebrow. “I know that, Stiles. That’s actually something we’re going to need to talk about now.”

Stiles nodded his head. At least they wouldn’t let him get too far into debt without being clear. Derek reached out and held his thin shoulders. “Do we have time to get back to my village? It’s about a three day hike from here in wolf form. I have no idea how long it’ll take on two legs. You can’t change yet, right?”

Stiles looked at him warily. “Have time for what?”

“Before your heat, Stiles. When is your heat coming?” Derek was unimpressed. He leaned in close to sniff. “I can smell it.”

Stiles blanched. “You can smell it? Well shit, I have no idea. Shit. I KNEW going close to you would set it off! Shit shit- I don’t know how close it is. I’ve been fighting it for a long time. It’s been a few months. Oh shit, I’m really skinny. I’m going to burn out.” This was goddamned great. 

“It’s going to be fine, Stiles. Do you have any idea of a time line? If we can, we should try to get back to my village, but it’s not vital.”

Stiles sighed, concentrating. “If you leave right now, and you stay in human form, you’ll probably be able to get away before it starts. I don’t know, maybe like twelve hours? I can kinda feel it in my joints- but I’ve only had one heat before so I can’t really predict it.” He braced his elbows on his knees and smashed his hands through his hair. “Are you healed enough to go on a hike that long- you smell healed, but I’m not really a great at that either and I’m basically terrified of having to hold your gut together for a second time this week and--”

Derek gave out a long, put upon sigh. “It’s ok. Just stay calm. I’ll have my beta bring us more food. We can just wait it out here.” 

“...Wait one holy hot second.” Stiles peeked up from under his fingers. “When you say ‘we can just wait’, who exactly are you talking about?”

“You didn’t actually think I was going to leave you alone and unprotected on my land, did you? You can’t have thought I was was going to just ignore what happened in the swamp. I’m unbonded.” He leveled a look right at him. “This was decided the second you pulled that knife out of my side, Stiles. We’re only having this conversation because you’ve been through a trial. As far as I’m concerned, it’s over.”

“Alpha Hale, just wait. I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“You don’t understand what HAS happened. You saved me, and now I’m going to claim you, just as soon as your heat comes.


	5. Not useless.

Everything was moving way way too fast. Two days ago he was an abandoned omega hoping to gather enough food to survive in the coming winter. Yesterday he was digging a poison blade out of the most beautiful alpha wolf he's ever seen. Last night that wolf announces he's going to bone the shit out him, like it's a goddamned foregone conclusion! Like Stiles should have figured it out already! Like it's just normal! 

Alpha Hale, in all his arrogant glory, has decided that not only has the claim been set from the second they met, it was too close to his heat for Stiles to leave the cave alone. At all. Even to poop. Well, theoretically even to poop because Stiles hasn't tried to make that argument -- BUT Derek did have some really strong opinions about how far away Stiles was allowed to venture to pee.

Their "conversation" concluded with Derek having to use the Voice again to stop Stiles from freaking out for the second time that day. Derek tucked Stiles back into his sleeping roll, hand fed him for twenty minutes and then ordered him to sleep before heading out to meet with his beta. 

Stiles slept for a few hours, but the beginnings of heat made him jumpy. He was was painfully aware of the time passing. The effect his pheromones had on Alpha Hale were distinct. Within a few hours, Derek was following Stiles around even the small cave, periodically leaning over to scent him. Soon, Derek was crowding him into a corner to hand feed him again. He was pressed against the alpha's chest, cradled on his lap like he didn't weigh a thing. It was like Derek was in a trance, eyes hot and a little flat, rubbing the back of Stiles's neck while he pressed each morsel of food into his mouth. Stiles tried not to let himself be taken away by it, he didn't want to provoke the alpha's rage whenever they got out of this. He didn't want Derek to think he took advantage.

Alphas became vulnerable during omega heats. Their instincts pushed them to provide, to satiate, to please. They would be much possessive, aggressive, and were more susceptible to omega suggestions. Often, Alphas in the North Tribes would have a beta near by the mating, to make sure the omega didn't use underhanded tricks to get things they wouldn't normally be given. 

Stiles needed to walk a fine line- he had no idea what he would be given, and what he would be refused. Derek had given him nice things to eat before the pheromones started really pumping and the fact was that he needed the food. His heat could burn through tons of energy. He was too thin as he was, he could have a heart attack if he weren't careful. He should probably err on the side of food, any later punishment wouldn't matter if he didn't survive the heat. 

Early that morning, three betas howled out greetings from a few meters away. Derek squeezed him for a moment, dropping his nose into Stiles's messy hair and deeply inhaling for a beat. He shifted Stiles down and over, wrapping the rough blanket around him and growling a warning not to leave the cave.

He returned quickly, piled high with supplies. 

Stiles helped unpack the provisions. They were incredible. Dried meats and lots of bread. Extra water skins piled up next to extra soft blankets for the bedroll. There were lots of socks and some suspiciously small clothing, too small for Derek. He stamped down that thought immediately. He could live with the clothes he had- and if they were going to let him eat even a quarter of this food...

Derek had said he was going to take him back to the village. But...Derek didn't want his betas to see him.  
If that were true, he may be able to convince him to let Stiles stay here. It wouldn't be perfect, but he would rather be permanently isolated in the forest, than trapped in an omega hut, 24 hours a day for life. It might be a hard sell, especially if Derek really bonded with him. He probably would want babies, which would mean a lot of contact to starve off miscarriage. But maybe- maybe he would just visit. Maybe. 

Derek moved in close to literally breathing down Stiles neck. Ok. This whole line of thought was probably wishful thinking. He sighed, and leaned back into Derek's chest. He might as well wring out every last little bit of comfort and joy that he can while Derek was offering.

\----

Stiles sat across the floor from the Alpha, placating him with a single foot across his lap. Stiles stared. The weight of what was going to happen was sitting on his chest. All of the unknowns and all of the fear bubbled up, cooking while they waited for the heat to set them both off. Waiting for instinct to take over for them. 

Derek sat relaxed, shirtless. He could have been a painting with how beautiful the fire light played across his muscles. His face was turned to the entrance of the cave, passively listening to whatever wildlife drama happened outside. His face was perfect, sharp lines and sloping planes. Stiles loved the contrast between smooth pale skin and his dark hair, whiskers and eyebrows. He looked powerful, ethereal, and too large for the space. The only human seeming thing about him was a loose hand curled around the delicate ankle on his thigh.

Stiles looked down and played with the frayed edge of his over-shirt. "I... I didn't know this land was claimed. I didn't smell anyone." 

For just a moment, Derek squeezed the bare ankle before changing to a caress. His voice was nowhere near as gentle and his touch. "The Hales have held this land for centuries. We don't need to announce it." 

"Oh." Stiles looked up, trying to gage Derek's mood. His gaze was met the a stony expression, almost blank. "I uh, I guess you don't trade with the Martin Pack? Maybe that's why I didn't know."

"Your from the Martin Pack? You don't look like it." His face was pinched. 

"Adopted in. We were Stilinskis before." 

"Ah. That's good." Derek's shoulders relaxed.

"You remember them? The Stilinskis?"

"They're the only northern tribe we trade with. Everyone else sided with the Argents, accepted their code. We're still traditional." He shrugged. "I hate the Martins, but I'd be glad to renew alliances with the your birth-tribe."

Stiles turned his head to the side, worry settling in again. "Oh- ah. I won't be useful like that... You really haven't been in touch for a while, huh? My Pack was dismantled five years ago. That's why we-- the Martins took us in. My dad is still there."

Derek popped up an eyebrow. "Your father is alive? Why-- you know what? Wait. Stiles, this isn't the time for this discussion." 

"I just don't...want you to think claiming me is going to do you any favors. The Martins kicked me out and the Stalinskis are gone. I'm basically useless."

Derek's eyes burned into him. Too quickly for Stiles to follow, he reached out for his other ankle and pulled hard, dragging his body across the dusty floor. 

The alpha was a sudden, heavy, welcome weight from thigh to shoulder. Big arms caged him in, forcing the omega to make eye contact. Derek got impossibly closer, rubbing their cheeks together and scenting hard around his hairline, jaw and neck. He breathed loudly into the shell of his ear.

"You aren't useless, Stiles. If you were, I'd be dead now." Derek pressed half a dozen kisses into the side of his face before getting up from a dazed Stiles. "I'm going to fill the water skins. Don't leave the cave. Your heat is just about here."


End file.
